


Iron Man or Captain America

by thestairwell



Series: Power and Responsibility [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Attempted mugging, Flirting, Humor, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestairwell/pseuds/thestairwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine continues at McKinley, begins his wooing, and actually stumbles across a real crime for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Man or Captain America

**Author's Note:**

> While this story could be classed as a crossover of Glee of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (aka the universe that The Avengers takes place in) but it's incredibly AU of the former and canon adjacent of the latter. Special abilities exist, have always existed, but they've never been persecuted like the mutants in X-Men have.
> 
> This chapter is a bit filler-y; the first few chapters move comparably slowly to the rest of the 'verse instalments on account of this originally being a chapter fic, but there'll be more focus on Kitten Boy/the Llamanator soon.

Despite how tired Blaine had been last night, after his hours-long excursion as Kitten Boy, Blaine woke up the next morning excited and with bounds of energy. He still poured himself some coffee, just in case his energy wore off quickly, and he wasn't sure whether it was the caffeine or the anticipation at seeing Kurt again which made him jittery as he parked his car and hurried to Glee club ten minutes before the first bell. Only Mr Schue was in the room so Blaine hovered awkwardly outside it. Mr Schue's familiarity made him uncomfortable. It seemed kind of unprofessional to Blaine, how friendly the teacher acted with his students, but maybe he was still a bit stuck on Dalton.

"Aren't you going in?" he heard suddenly from behind him, and span round to see Rachel. "Do you have a guilty conscience, perhaps, making you concerned about exchanging pleasantries with the man willing to accept you from a rival choir?"

Blaine smiled at her his most charming smile, the one that made old ladies in nursing homes give him various hard-boiled sweets. "Not at all, Rachel. I just wasn't sure about the standard seating and didn't want to take anyone's chair."

The girl looked slightly mollified, and then determinedly looked Blaine in the eye.

"Whatever happens, the New Directions are a family, and that means we look out for each other, okay? Everyone else trusts you so, as captain, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. But if you break Kurt's heart, Finn and I will kick you out so fast it'll make all your Warblers' heads spin, got it?"

"I have no intentions of breaking Kurt's heart," Blaine assured her, trying to look as sincere as possible. Rachel nodded and took a step back. Blaine gestured for her to go in first, holding the door open, and Rachel looked startled and then pleased, and then strode past him.

"You're on probation," she said.

Blaine laughed. "Thank you."

"And . . ." Rachel steeled herself, looking comically as if readying herself for betrayal. "Kurt likes to sit in the back row. He doesn't always but most of the time."

Blaine smiled at her and rested a hand on her back, and gave her another, softer, thank you which made Rachel smile back at him. He climbed up the steps and sat in a back chair slightly to the right while Rachel placed herself dead centre at the front.

Next through the door was Kurt on his own. When he saw Blaine, his face lit up with a closed-lipped smile and Blaine couldn't help but smile back.

"Kurt, where's Finn?" Rachel asked, forcing Kurt to break eye contact to look at her.

"Driving himself to school today because he has practice after school. Which you already knew. I've seen those calendars you made, you know."

"Just checking," she trilled in a not very nonchalant tone at all. Kurt rolled his eyes and then climbed up the steps so he was standing hesitantly beside Blaine.

"Can I sit next to you?" he asked.

"Of course!"

Kurt smiled at him again and gracefully sat down. He was wearing black boots that went halfway up his calf today and they made his legs look long and strong, and Blaine forced himself to swallow and look away as Kurt straightened up from putting down his bag.

Over the next few minutes before the bell rang, the rest of the New Directions wandered in by themselves or in pairs, and though some of them glanced at the silent pair in the back row, no one bothered them.

"I see you survived Rachel," Kurt said in a low voice, and Blaine had to cough to disguise his laugh. "I apologise for anything she said."

"There's no need. Honestly," he added at Kurt's dubious look. "Her intentions were really quite sweet. She's just looking out for both you and the group."

"Me?" Blaine smiled at Kurt's light blush. He bit his lip and looked away, in Rachel's direction. "She is a rather nice person," he admitted quietly, "once you get past the cut-throat ambition, ego and atrocious fashion."

"All right, guys!" Mr Schue exclaimed, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. Kurt looked to the front straight away, but Blaine's eyes lingered, drinking in Kurt's profile until he forced his eyes away. "Mr Figgins has asked us to perform at the homecoming rally again this year and I think it would be an excellent opportunity to get more members. So, your assignment for this week is to think of something fun and catchy, something that the whole group would be able to sing and will encourage people to join . . ."

The rest of the hour was spent throwing around ideas for recruiting and fund-raising methods. Blaine would pipe up with the more popular ideas from his time in the Warblers (for fund-raising; the a cappella choir was one of the most popular clubs in the school so they never had shortage of potential members) but mostly kept quiet, storing away questions for Mike, Kurt and Mercedes later (like why was it necessary to specify 'no contraband' when someone brought up a bake sale?) and studying the dynamics of the group.

They really did seem very much like a family.

*

Blaine didn't manage to be the first one out of class before lunch on his second day, but he didn't feel it was quite so urgent to get to the cafeteria today anyway. He knew that there would be some of the New Directions members sitting at a table – hopefully, Kurt included, although Blaine knew Mike and Mercedes and even Puck a little now, weirdly – and Blaine had a packed lunch so he didn't have to rush to the queue to get the good food before it was gone.

Plus, he was prepared for the smell today. Yesterday, he had been so focused on getting to Kurt that he'd missed the smell permuting the air until he was suddenly surrounded by it; now, he was able to tell when he was getting close and began to breathe shallow breaths. With any luck, he'd also be able to sit next to Kurt again, or at the very least opposite him and next to one of the girls.

When he entered the cafeteria, he immediately saw some familiar faces sitting at the same table as yesterday, but no Kurt. His stomach started to sink, but he shook it off because being this disappointed at not seeing Kurt was ridiculous. Kurt might just be running late, or he may have been held up, or he could have stopped off at his locker. Just because he got here first yesterday, didn't mean he always would. And beside that, yesterday had been the first day the two had met, and being any kind of upset past 'mild' was bordering on obsessive and co-dependent and clingy. And Kurt deserved better than 'clingy'.

As he made his way over to the table, he felt increasingly nervous. He'd never really talked to any of these people, not more than a few words in a larger conversation. As much as he had a quickly growing crush on Kurt, he realised he shouldn't narrow his focus on the other boy and talk to some other people, too. If he could make friends with everyone – or half of the group at the very least, which couldn't be that hard – he had been one of the most popular boys at Dalton – he could be part of the 'family' too, and he wouldn't be Kurt's Boyfriend, or Bella Swan.

(A little thrill went up his spine at the thought of being Kurt's boyfriend. It would all come in due time, if he did everything right, or at least didn't mess up too badly, and first he wanted to enjoy the courtship.)

"Hey, guys,&rdquo he said to the table at large, slipping into a seat between Sam and a couple of empty chairs in case Kurt was going to sit next to him again.

"Blaine! You like superheroes, right?"

Blaine bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Yeah, I do."

Finn thinks Iron Man is cooler than Captain America and I need some help convincing him."

"Man, Iron Man's, like, a girl magnet, plus he's the richest dude on the planet. What could beat that?"

"The dude who's basically everything America stands for," Sam retorted.

"Iron Man has gadgets and the fake heart thing."

"Captain America lived in _World War II_!"

They both turned to look at Blaine, so closely in sync that Blaine was almost creeped out.

"C'mon, man, who's side are you on?" Sam asked.

"You know, you actually kinda look like Tony Stark . . ." Finn said, squinting at Blaine, who grinned and sat up a little taller.

"Really? Thanks!" Tony Stark was hot – there was a reason he was one of the most sought after ex-bachelors in the world. And Finn looked a little smug now, so Blaine guessed his tactic was to butter Blaine up to get him on his side.

What Blaine really wanted to say was that he couldn't possibly decide between the two heroes because gadgets were cool (unless they were being used against him, _Llamanator_ ) but technically Iron Man wasn't a superhero because he didn't have any powers, but he was sure the baby they'd have when they gave into the sexual tension would be the most awesome superhero of all. However, he didn't know how well that would go over with his audience of straight football players, so his actual answer was, "Uh, well, Iron Man is really awesome but I guess I'd choose Captain America. His story's really inspirational, you know?"

He didn't need to tell them that Captain America was Kitten Boy's number one inspiration and idol.

Sam pumped the air and then slapped Blaine on the back while Finn pouted into his mystery meat. "Suck it, Finn!"

Blaine couldn't hold back a laugh. At Sam and Finn's confused faces, he just shook his head and said, "Gay thing."

He was struck by a strange feeling of culture shock when Sam and Finn went back to their business (gloating and moping, respectively). At Dalton, there would've been at least two guys catcalling Sam, and then there would've been Nick and Jeff acting overly flamboyant and draping themselves over each other at Blaine's comment.

"Do either of you guys have powers?" Blaine asked. Both boys shook their heads.

"At least, not yet," Sam said. "We've still got, like, five more years before puberty ends, right? What about you?"

Blaine shook his head and regretted asking his question. He didn't like lying to people.

"I'd love super strength," Finn said. "Can you imagine me on the field? I wouldn't have to worry about a scholarship at all!"

"No way, dude, telepathy all the way. Professor X is the biggest BAMF ever and he's trapped in a wheelchair."

"Telepathy would really sweeten the paraplegic deal, yo," Artie called over from the other side of the table, and then dove right back into his conversation with Puck.

"What about you, Blaine?"

"Um . . ." Honestly, Blaine really liked his powers. They weren't the most glamorous, but they helped him help people, so he thought they were pretty awesome. "Yeah, flying would be cool."

The conversation turned, though Blaine wouldn't be able to say what to because he was increasingly distracted by the absence of Kurt. Had Blaine done something yesterday or this morning to scare him off thus making him wary about coming to the cafeteria? Were there some unsavoury rumours floating around the school? Had Kurt figured out who his brother was and run away in fear?

Blaine shook his head. He was being ridiculous, not to mention self-centred. Nothing about Kurt's existence revolved around Blaine, because they'd only known each other for about a day and anything would be unhealthy.

"Dwarf, your elven boyfriend is here, relax," someone said, and after a few moments Blaine looked up from his lunch, startled.

"Wait, do you mean me?"

Santana raised her eyebrow.

Oh, okay, she did mean him. Which meant Kurt was here, which meant—

Blaine casually turned his head round to look at the door, where Kurt had just come through with Rachel. They were talking, but Kurt was looking right at him. Blaine smiled and raised a hand. Kurt wriggled his fingers back and then gestured to the lunch line. Blaine's shoulders relaxed and he kept looking at Kurt – or as much as he could given that they were on opposite sides of the room and there were people and structures between them. Kurt was still talking to Rachel, bouncing a little on his feet every time they had to stop, which Blaine found adorable, but Blaine could see the other boy glancing his way regularly, and he could see his faint blush.

God, Blaine loved his powers.

"Afternoon, Blaine," Kurt said once he and Rachel had reached the table. He sat down next to Blaine without even a question – which made a thrill go through him – and Rachel sat down beside Finn and immediately launched into a rapid-fire speech.

"Hey," he returned with a grin. "Good news?"

"At first, no." Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt giggled.

"Sounds like a long story."

Kurt hummed. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all!" Blaine turned his body to face Kurt more fully. "Just start from the beginning."

"Well, I won't start from the _very_ beginning," Kurt said, "because that would take us back eighteen years and we only have half an hour of lunch left."

Blaine gestured for Kurt to begin with a grin, thinking that he would very much like to hear this story from the very beginning one day.

"Rachel and I had a meeting with Miss Pillsbury. We wanted to go to Juilliard together but Miss Pillsbury said they don't have a musical theatre department – that's the bad news. But then she brought up NYADA &ndash have you heard of it? The New York Academy of Dramatic Arts." Kurt's voice was reverent, and his eyes were wide and shining, looking past Blaine to some not-so-distant future until he blinked back to the present. "They have the best musical theatre programme in the _world_! They don't even take very many students per year! Miss Pillsbury gave us both a prospectus and she said there's a mixer in Columbus on Friday, which of course Rachel and I will go to."

"Wow, Kurt, that sounds amazing." _New York, New York, New York, he wants to go to New York!_ sang a voice in his head. "I can't wait to hear you sing if you're talented enough to get in."

"My voice is one of my many talents," Kurt preened.

"So, New York?" Blaine said. "Or will you be applying to other places?"

"Nope, New York or bust. We went there for Nationals last year and—" He cut himself off and his gaze was grey and intense on Blaine. "I _belong_ there, Blaine. New York is – it's where I need to be." He blinked and looked down, laughing self-deprecatingly, and Blaine let out the breath which had got caught in his throat. "Sorry, that was probably a bit much."

Before Blaine could think about it, he reached out and slipped his fingers over Kurt's. His skin burned hot where they touched, and the heat only increased when Kurt drew in a sharp breath.

"Don't be sorry. Kurt, there is no need to apologise for your passion or the way you feel. It's part of what makes you _you_ and it's—" _beautiful_ , he wanted to say, but that was probably going a bit too fast. As embarrassing as his last crush had turned out, he had learnt an invaluable lesson of pacing, so he finished his sentence with: "inspiring."

A small, shy smile tugged at Kurt's lips as he glanced away.

"Well," he said, his voice airy and blasé. "Thank you."

Blaine squeezed his hand and then reluctantly let go. Kurt did need to eat after all.

"My pleasure," he said honestly. "Besides, I know how you feel about New York. The only time I've gone was when I was eight after my brother graduated but I fell in love with the city. The skyline, you know? I can only really see myself at NYU," he continued, and Kurt nodded understandingly, "but my parents will kill me if I don't apply anywhere else, my mom especially if I don't try for any Ivy League schools."

"Ivy League? Impressive."

Blaine shrugged with a small smile. "I know I wouldn't be accepted to any of them, even if I had stayed at Dalton, but it'll keep my mom happy." Or at least pleasant.

"Do you have a major in mind?"

"Sort of. I want to do Music, definitely, but there are just so many to choose from! I keep looking at the website and changing my mind. I might end up doing a double major, but I don't know – I want to help people, so maybe Education or Psychology."

"And you call me inspiring," Kurt said softly, with a look in his eyes that made Blaine's stomach somersault. "That's really amazing."

Blaine shrugged and forced himself not to start fiddling with his now-empty lunch bag. He always felt a bit awkward when someone praised him so sincerely, although at least as Kitten Boy it was part of the job and came with the territory and he brush it off with that excuse. After a performance with the Warblers, he could always deflect to include the entire group, because it really was a group effort and it was an honour to be chosen as the lead singer.

He knew people looked up to Kitten Boy. After all, he was a superhero, and even if he'd never done anything so drastic as to save the town from destruction he had once saved the mayor and he was responsible for the decreasing crime rates.

"I don't know," he said, making his tone light and teasing and pairing his words with a wink, "I think it takes a special kind of person to survive the cut-throat underbelly of the musical theatre world."

"Don't let Rachel hear you say that," Kurt commented. "Her ego's big enough as it is." Blaine laughed, only partly with relief.

"You're just saying that because you love her," he teased. "You do want to go to New York with her, after all."

Kurt faked a shudder. "God, you're right. What am I thinking?"

Blaine pressed his lips together to stop himself laughing again – it was ungentlemanly to find amusement at someone's expense, after all – and look over at Rachel. She was still talking to Finn, though it looked like he'd checked out of the conversation a while back. For the final five minutes of the period, Blaine got drawn into a conversation with Sam, Mike and Puck about video games and an upcoming game adaptation of _The Walking Dead_ (personally, Blaine preferred shooting spells than guns, but now probably wasn't the time to bring that up) while Kurt talked to Tina. Most of the group started moving at the warning bell, and Blaine walked quietly beside Kurt while he waited for the other boy and Tina to separate.

"I have two questions," Blaine announced.

"I might have the answers," Kurt shot back, and Blaine smiled.

"First, where was Mercedes today? I didn't see her in the cafeteria all period."

Kurt laughed. "Oh, she was with her boyfriend, then. He's on the soccer team. They are so cute together, but the jocks tend to all sit together so the two of them usually find their own table. If you didn't see her, they were probably outside." He giggled and his ears went a little pink as he added, "Or they'd snuck off somewhere to make out."

"There's a soccer team? That wasn't my second question, by the way."

"Haven't you looked at the clubs board?"

Blaine shook his head. He'd asked Principal Figgins if there was a show choir group, which was how he'd known about Mr Schue, but the principal hadn't otherwise expanded beyond 'various sporting teams, the celibacy club and other such groups for students'.

"My second question is about Glee club." Kurt nodded. "Are the assignments a regular thing?"

"They are. Mr Schue likes to do something new every week. It's not required to sing though it is strongly encouraged, and pretty much everyone's a diva in there anyway. Maybe this year we'll convince Mr Schue we're a choir, not the Finn-and-Rachel club," he finished almost sourly. He seemed to realise where the conversation was going and cleared his throat. "So, yes, a new assignment every week or so, two or three people go every day, and the rest of the hour is usually spent planning or rehearsing."

"Any tips for the newbie?" Blaine asked. "I think over half the songs on my computer fall under 'fun and catchy for the group to sing'." He'd been aiming to be on the Warbler council for his senior year, which involved convincing the previous council he could be trusted to find songs which would sound good a cappella. And aside from that, 'fun and catchy' was his third favourite musical genre.

Kurt ran his hand up and down the strap of his messenger bag. "Well, sometimes I like to go to a music store and see if they have something more unique there. There's one that sells sheet music just about ten minutes from school."

"Really?" Kurt nodded. Blaine smiled and felt his face warm a little with anticipation and nerves. "Would you mind showing me where? Only if you're not too busy, of course," he added coyly.

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" Kurt reassured him. "It's no trouble. Do you, um, have a car?"

Blaine nodded and Kurt's face fell slightly, so he said, "I don't mind leaving it in the lot after school, if you don't mind driving us, though."

Kurt straightened his bag on his shoulder and smiled at Blaine. His voice shook a little and was at least half an octave higher as he said, "It's a date."

Blaine almost skipped into the room, and his cheeks hurt with the effort not to smile too widely.

"It's a date."

*

Concentration was a lost cause for Blaine's final hour of school. Every time he looked at the clock, it seemed barely ten seconds had passed, and it felt like an age before the bell rang. He forced himself to pack everything in his bag slowly and in the right place, and then went outside the classroom to wait for Kurt. It was only another couple of minutes or so for him to arrive and, since Blaine didn't need to go to his locker, having made sure he wouldn't need to during his study period, they went straight out to Kurt's car.

"It suits you, somehow," Blaine commented. Kurt raised his eyebrow in question and Blaine shrugged. "I mean, it's difficult to imagine you with a smaller car. And it's difficult not to notice this car, right?"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Kurt said with a bemused smile.

"You should! This is an awesome car!"

"Thanks. My dad got it for my sixteenth birthday and then let me drive it all the way to Columbus for a production of _Mamma Mia!_."

"Oh, my god, you went to that? I'm so jealous! _Mamma Mia!_ has some of my favourite songs of all time – don't you just love ABBA?"

"How is that even a question? Of course I do. It's one of my guiltiest pleasures. It's even on my iPhone."

"You know," Blaine said, smiling charmingly and tilting his head a little even though Kurt couldn't look away from the road, "you should sing for me."

"What? Now?"

"You've already heard me sing, and I can't offer my full support for NYADA until I know exactly how talented you are."

"We're in a car," Kurt pointed out.

"That's fine." Blaine smiled. I just want to hear you sing. I can wait to watch you perform.

Kurt hesitated. "Al-alright. Um, could you find it on my phone? I'll probably sound better with backing music."

"Sure."

While Blaine searched through Kurt's music (and wow, he had excellent taste), the boy himself tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Luckily for Kurt, it didn't take long for the opening accompaniment, and Blaine watched with fascination as Kurt breathed in, breathed out, and opened his mouth.

" _A taste of honey, tasting much sweeter than wine,_ " Kurt sang, and Blaine forgot how to do everything but listen and copy the subtle blush creeping across Kurt's cheeks. " _I dream of your first kiss, and then I feel upon my lips again a taste of honey, tasting much sweeter than wine._ "

When he'd first heard Kurt's voice, he'd thought it sounded musical, but that was absolutely nothing compared to how he was singing now. It filled the car and surrounded Blaine entirely. Kurt's face glowed; his body swayed backwards and forwards to side to side, his arms tightened and shifted. As impossible as it should have been to drive and perform, Kurt somehow managed it, slipping into the emotions of the song while managing not to crash the car.

" _I will return; yes, I will return. I'll come back for the honey and you. Yours was the kiss that awoke my heart; there lingers still, though we're far apart, that taste of honey, tasting much sweeter than wine._

" _Oh, I will return; yes, I will return. I'll come back for the honey and you._ "

"Wow," Blaine breathed out, after a moment of silence and a song change. "Kurt, that was – if NYADA don't accept you, there's something seriously wrong with them. You're a _countertenor_. The Warblers would kill to have a countertenor!"

Kurt beamed and blushed and bounced in his seat.

"I have the exact same range as Orlando di Lasso."

Blaine couldn't help but gape. It probably wasn't his most flattering expression – especially since he'd always tried to come across as so put together, but almost three years with the Warblers was enough to turn him into a bit of a vocal snob &ndash but it was obviously a major compliment to Kurt so he wasn't completely embarrassed.

"Wow," he just repeated. Kurt giggled, and he was still smiling widely when they entered the music store.

It wasn't a particularly big store, rectangular in shape, about the same size as Blaine's dining room, limited to the one floor, and all stock in eyesight. Along one wall was a row of CDs; the sheet music was held in racks along the opposing wall and in the middle of the floor. The back wall had a block of vinyls and a piano, and the till was on a desk by the window in the corner opposite the door. There were a couple of customers inside, and the sound system was quietly playing the Backstreet Boys.

"How did I never know about this place before?" Blaine wondered, drinking in the casual atmosphere.

"Have you lived in Lima long?"

"Yeah, my entire life." Blaine looked over at Kurt, who was looking back at him with confusion. "There was an incident at my first high school. It, um, against my sexuality. The faculty wouldn't do anything so . . . I left. I went to Dalton."

"That's so unfair," Kurt said in a low voice, frowning.

"Hey, it's fine. I made pretty good friends with my usual cab driver." Blaine smiled and nudged Kurt's arm. "Come on, help me find some music?"

It didn't take long for the tension to leave Kurt's muscles, and then the two boys were flicking through the sheet music and singing parts out to each other, anything they thought was funny or a favourite. Blaine still loved Kurt's voice – though it didn't have the same effect on him as it had in the car – and they soon started picking up songs for the other boy to sing.

"Just don't do anything by Britney Spears," Kurt warned after Blaine put back some Anastasia. "We did _Toxic_ last year for homecoming and Coach Sylvester had to set off the fire alarm as crowd control." Blaine's eyebrows went up at that but Kurt refused to explain any further, so Blaine made a mental note to ask Mike in Economics the next day.

"Is there something in particular which could persuade other students to join?" Blaine asked.

"Probably not," Kurt replied, blasé. Blaine furrowed his eyebrows and Kurt slowed down his shuffling, and after a moment of hesitation continued in a light, forced nonchalant tone, "I don't know what it was like at your old school but at McKinley, Glee club is the bottom rung of the social ladder. The only reason you haven't had a welcome slushy is because Principal Figgins got rid of the slushy machine over the summer, and it helps you're not on anyone's radar yet."

"A welcome what?"

"It's a drink of coloured ice? The football and hockey teams used to throw them in the Glee clubs' faces."

"They used to _what_?" Blaine was simultaneously flabbergasted and furious. "And they just got away with it?"

The arts programme barely has a budget," Kurt said, "while the athletics programme has thousands of dollars poured into it, not that you'd know from our god awful football team."

"That's – that's—"

"High school with an incompetent principal," Kurt supplied, and Blaine could only nod in agreement, dumbfounded. Kurt cleared his throat, slipped a stack of paper out of its slot, and when he turned to Blaine to show him he had a smile on his face. "What do you think of Lana Del Rey?"

They didn't stay in the music shop for long after that, mostly because the shop assistant had started glaring at them whenever they started singing. They didn't cause enough trouble to get kicked out, but when the clock started pushing five and Blaine couldn't find anything that jumped out at him, they mutually decided that it was time to leave. Unfortunately, Blaine didn't want to part from Kurt yet – there was still some tension from talking about the bullying, but he was having more fun than he'd had since his friends at Dalton had thrown him a goodbye party the first day of the summer.

"If you don't have any plans," Blaine said after he'd clipped his seatbelt in, "would you mind if I cash in that coffee date?"

"I'll have to rearrange dinner with Lady Gaga . . ."

Blaine laughed. "Do you know where the Lima Bean is?"

Kurt did not, in fact, and as Blaine gave directions to the coffee house he explained it was a popular hangout whenever his Dalton friends had come to visit him in Lima. The Lima Bean didn't sell the best coffee Blaine had ever had, but then again, they bought their coffee Fairtrade while Blaine's parents only bought expensive beans which made delicious coffee but were likely the result of what was basically slave labour. He only drank coffee at home if he was in desperate need of caffeine and there was no other way to get it.

The Lima Bean was a cosy coffee house with several different types of seating areas, from tall stools at the bar by the window to plump couches in the far corner. The baristas were always pleasant, and only one of them had ever batted an eyelash when Nick and Jeff held hands.

"This is really nice," Kurt said, looking round with a smile. "I can't believe I never knew this was here."

"Guess that makes up for me not knowing about Between the Sheets." Kurt made a noise of agreement and, after a moment of deliberation, Blaine decided not to ask if Kurt recognised the innuendo in the music store's name. This was the second day they'd known each other – it was far too soon to bring up anything overtly sexual.

"Medium nonfat mocha," Kurt ordered when they reached the counter.

Can you add a medium drip and a biscotti to that?" Blaine jumped in, and Kurt quirked a smile.

"Mr Anderson, are you freeloading?"

"Nope, you are." Kurt furrowed his eyebrows and, before he could do anything, Blaine handed his credit card over the counter. "Thanks."

"Blaine! You didn't need to do that."

"I asked you, Kurt, it's fine." He looked at Kurt coyly out the corner of his eye. Flirting. He had this. "You could always pay next time."

"I suppose that doesn't sound like too much of a hardship," Kurt quipped with a small smirk. His voice was pitched lower, and he sauntered past Blaine to the other end of the bar where they'd be able to pick up their drinks. The sultry tone made Blaine's heart skip a beat, and he couldn't help but grin.

"So do you have any ideas for the assignment?" Kurt asked after they'd got their drinks and were walking over to the condiment bar.

"Actually, I've been thinking I'll sit this one out. I don't know all that much about the student body so it wouldn't be fair to sing for them, or even try to."

"When did you come to this conclusion?"

"During my study period."

Kurt smiled down at his coffee, and after a moment of lingering, Blaine looked around the room for a free table. He picked up a couple of sugar packets to take to the table and led Kurt over to a small round table with two chairs situated in the middle of the room.

There was a brief moment, after stirring in his sugars, when the lid wouldn't go back on the coffee cup and Blaine started to panic. He'd managed so far to remain suave and cool and very Humphrey Bogart, except for when he was caught off guard and blurted out his sexuality instead of his name, and maybe a few instances where he couldn't control a smile or a blush – he couldn't afford to mess up his image so soon by losing to a coffee cup lid. Why had he suggested getting coffee again?

"What about you?" he asked, hoping conversation would distract Kurt from his complete hand-eye failure. "Have you got any ideas for a song yet?"

"Of course. I'm thinking either _Rock This Country!_ by Shania Twain or _Who Do You Think You Are?_ by the Spice Girls." The lid finally popped on and Blaine bit his lip to stop a noise of success coming through. "I think everyone would have fun singing it and there are enough girls – and me, of course – so that plenty of otherwise maligned would be able to get a lead. &

"Don't forget to think about song arrangements," Blaine said after finally taking a sip of his drip. "It's surprisingly difficult to find songs which will sound good in eight part harmony where no one can get any higher than a B4 without completely destroying their falsetto."

"Careful, Blaine, you're giving away classified information there."

Blaine smiled from behind his coffee cup. "Good luck finding a way to use it against them."

They talked about Glee for a while, Kurt filling Blaine in on typical New Directions behaviour and Blaine describing the Warblers for Kurt, and they spent a few minutes giggling over the imagined anarchy of the New Directions if the McKinley choir was run by students too.

As they were coming to the ends of their coffees, Blaine watching himself turn the cardboard cup in his hands a few rotations, and then looked up at Kurt, who was looking back at him curiously.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You've been asking me things since yesterday, Blaine."

"About the, uh, the bullying."

Kurt's smile dropped. He held himself a little tighter, drawing his shoulders together inward, stiffening his spine and his jaw; it broke Blaine's heart as he watched and realised that the other boy probably didn't even realise his protective posture.

"What do you want to know?"

Blaine hesitated for a moment. It wasn't too late – he could change his mind, bring back the happy atmosphere. But . . . "What happens, exactly? Not just to the Glee club but to the gay kids, too."

"Up until two days ago, I was the only out kid in the entire school," Kurt said, and Blaine couldn't even begin to formulate a response. At least at his first high school, he hadn't been alone. "And what do you expect? This is Ohio – this is _Lima_. Anyone who doesn't fit the mould gets beaten into submission, and it gets worse when you refuse to bend."

Blaine desperately wanted to reach out and take Kurt's hand. He wanted to take Kurt in his arms and do anything he could to take away the shadows in Kurt's eyes, to heal the scars on his heart. He wanted to protect Kurt from this town and his bullies, even if it meant outing himself as Kitten Boy.

But the jut of Kurt's chin – but the fact that Kurt was still wholly and unapologetically himself, even after everything he'd been through – told Blaine exactly how proud and strong and brave Kurt was, and he knew the other boy wouldn't accept anything more than Blaine's empathy.

"They used to throw me in the dumpster before I had my growth spurt – before I'd even come out of my sparkling glass closet, actually," he added with an eye roll, "and there were the slushies, but they've been discontinued now." Kurt's eyes slid away from Blaine's, looking at his shoulder as he continued in a low, dull tone, "Shoving in the hallways, into the lockers or the walls or the floors. There are slurs, comments, notes, vandalising my things."

"Kurt." Blaine's voice cracked from the burn in his throat, and he reached his hand across the table. Kurt took it without hesitation, though he didn't seem to realise what he'd done, and his grip was so tight it would have cut off the sensation to Blaine's fingers were it not for his invulnerability. Blaine cleared his throat and let go of his cup to hold Kurt's hand between both of his own. "Kurt, I promise, you're not alone now. You have me, and I'll be here for as long as you need me. We won't let those homophobic bullies bring us down, okay?"

Kurt's smile was small but somehow even more radiant for it, and his eyes shone with tears.

"Okay," he whispered so quietly that Blaine almost missed it. Blaine smiled in return. He raised their joined hands to brush his lips over Kurt's fingers, squeezed his hand, and then gently let it go.

*

When Blaine finally got home, his parents had already started dinner. He practically floated into the dining room and greeted his parents with a wide, happy grin and a dreamy apology.

"Where have you been?" his dad demanded. If Blaine were in anything but this light, untouchable mood, he would have retorted that they could always have tried calling him, but he didn't want confirmation that they didn't really care where he was but more who he was with. If Blaine weren't in such a light mood to make him loose-lipped, he would have done the easy thing and lied.

"On a date," he replied, his smile growing softer as he relived it.

"A date?" his mom echoed. Her tone was deliberately nonchalant, and Blaine started to feel himself come back down to Earth. He probably would have been better off eating out somewhere and only coming home to grab his costume.

"We're in Glee club together. He offered to—"

"Blaine," Mr Anderson interrupted. Blaine breathed in and out slowly, trying not to let his dad completely ruin his mood. "Son, are you sure you should be getting into a relationship right now?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. We're taking it slow. I want to be his friend before his boyfriend, you know?" he said, answering the literal question and not the hidden 'are you sure you don't want to be dating a girl?'. His parents had never come outright and said they didn't like that Blaine was gay but they grabbed as many opportunities to hint at it as they could and saw him as little as possible.

Mr Anderson gritted his teeth and then tried again. "Blaine—"

"You know what? I'm not actually that hungry. And it's starting to get dark. Is it all right if I go out?"

There was a moment of silence where his parents just looked at each other. Other parents would probably have said no – hell, other parents probably wouldn't approve of their seventeen-year-old child being a superhero at all – but Blaine knew his parents and he knew they were just deciding who would say yes, as if they had any control over him.

"Have you done your homework?" Mrs Anderson asked.

"Yes," he lied. He remembered the blush on Kurt's cheeks and the image of Kurt's name and number newly in his phone contacts to bring back his weightlessness, or as much of it as he could, and smiled at his parents. "If I don't come back before you're in bed, goodnight."

His mom nodded. Blaine took his unused plate and cutlery into the kitchen and put them away before running up the stairs. He fished his Kitten Boy costume out of the back of his wardrobe and put the leggings under his clothes and replaced his boots, and then put the rest of it carefully into a small, old gym bag so it wouldn't get wrinkled. He shoved some money in his pockets, exchanged a couple of texts with Kurt about getting home safely and having a good evening, and then he crept out the back door as usual.

He took the bus downtown and got something to eat at the first eatery he came across – he was actually starving right now – and then ducked down an empty alleyway to change into the rest of his outfit and hide his bag.

Kitten Boy launched himself off the ground, used his momentum to push himself off the wall, and landed on the low roof of an apartment block.

"Eenie meenie miney mo," he muttered to himself, trying to decide which way to go. He hadn't been lying earlier when he'd said to Sam and Finn that flying would be a pretty cool power to have – he'd just neglected to mention how useful it could be, too. "At least I can jump," he mused aloud, and then did just that.

Nothing much happened for several hours – no wandering children or lost pets, no fights, no emergencies the appropriate services didn't already have under control.

It was a little before one, as Kitten Boy was started to shiver and was thinking about calling it a night, that Blaine heard a shriek. By now, he knew the difference between playful and fearful screams, so he ran as fast as he could in the direction it had come from, keeping his ears peeled for any more noise.

"—n't hurt me," a female cried. Kitten Boy slowed to a run, and his steps made hardly any sound across the roof tiles.

"I said hand over your _money_!" a man snarled. Kitten Boy looked over the edge of the building and saw, a few feet in from the entrance to the alley, a man, maybe around six foot, holding a gun and blocking the exit of a shaking, middle-aged, averaged-height woman.

"I t-told you, I-I don't hav—"

Kitten Boy flipped over the edge of the roof and landed half a metre away from the mugger.

I'd put that down if I were you, sir," he said, even as the mugger span around and shot at him. The bullet hit his chest, and the force of it make him stumble backwards.

The flattened bullet landed on the ground with a soft ting. The mugger swore and turned to run, but Kitten Boy moved faster: he kicked the back of the guy's knees so he fell and then punched him in the face, cleanly breaking his nose. After making sure the man wasn't going to try anything else or make another run for it – he was actually quite a pathetic sight now, groaning on the floor – Kitten Boy turned to the woman and smiled. She immediately crumpled to the ground, and Kitten Boy ran forward to catch her.

"Whoa! It's okay. You're safe now, alright?" She nodded, gulping back sobs. "What's your name?"

"C-Celia."

"Celia, do you have a phone?"

"H-he—"

"He took it?" Celia nodded. Kitten Boy guided her to a wall and then went over to the man, who had dropped the woman's bag when Kitten Boy had punched him. Kitten Boy went back over to Celia and asked if he could get her phone out, to which she agreed, so Blaine called the police and told them to bring an ambulance as well. "Do you have anyone else you want me to call?" he asked after he'd hung up. "Any family or friends?"

"My sis-sister – Becca."

So Kitten Boy called Becca as well, explaining who he was and what had happened. Becca agreed to be there as quickly as she could, and then Kitten Boy gave the phone back to Celia. She was still shaking, he noticed, her skin was clammy and she looked a little pale, but it didn't look like she was in immediate danger of going into shock.

"Tell me about Becca," he said. "Are you two close?" Celia nodded, glancing at the mugger. "Look at me, Celia, I'll worry about him, okay? Tell me about your sister."

So Celia did, up until the police and an ambulance arrived. Kitten Boy repeated what had happened, and then launched himself back up onto the roof. When he looked back, he saw a car park haphazardly across the sidewalk and a woman ran out and embraced Celia. Kitten Boy grinned, and then took a running leap to the other side of the street.

If Blaine hadn't become Kitten Boy, Celia could have been seriously hurt tonight. She was the reason why, no matter how annoying and frustrating his arch nemesis made him, Kitten Boy would always, always stand up to the Llamanator. And one day, Kitten Boy would bring the Llamanator to justice, unmask him and make him, like every other crook he'd caught, pay for the people he'd hurt and stop him from hurting more people in the future. Saving people's lives was even with the tear-inducing mundaneness of the thousands of little fixes he had to do to his uniform and the dozens he'd gone through already. (Unfortunately, his invulnerability did not extend to his clothing.)

As Kitten Boy made his way to the alley where he'd stashed his bag, he imagined the day he would be close enough to Kurt to tell him about his secret identity.

When Blaine crawled into bed, he was suddenly exhausted. Physical confrontations rarely fuelled him with adrenalin any more now that his body and brain very rarely perceived them as threats, but the high from someone's gratitude – even unspoken – was starting to fade away. He had World History homework but he decided to just do it in his study period, and then Blaine fell into a fearless, dreamless sleep with a faint smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> I've planned out how many parts there are going to be in this 'verse (20 - which basically covers their senior year and includes a chapter about how Kurt became the Llamanator) but I'm open to prompts on [Tumblr](http://thuslynope.tumblr.com).
> 
> Song credit: _A Taste of Honey_ by The Beatles.


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